


le petit morte

by paddyfields (lucitae), spills



Series: Like-Like and Not-Love [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: #kurohqpjoau, Established Relationship, M/M, PJO!AU, Son of Hades!Hinata, Son of Hermes!Atsumu, mentions of suna/osamu/komori
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25729273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucitae/pseuds/paddyfields, https://archiveofourown.org/users/spills/pseuds/spills
Summary: Le petit morte. Rin had said pretty words with his pretty mouth.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Series: Like-Like and Not-Love [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859686
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	le petit morte

**Author's Note:**

> some more of [this au](https://twitter.com/shokurensei/status/1288033046348750848).

Blood trickles down the side of his face, making it impossible to see from his left eye. The pain from gash above his eyebrow is incomparable to his broken arm. Thankfully, he can still feel it. Nerves are still intact, meaning Apollo cabin just needs to rejoin his bones — _if_ he makes it back to camp. 

He laughs. It sounds a little strangled.

He’s been on this road dozens of times. Ushered countless of demigods with their satyr guides safely to camp. Even when he and Osamu split — decoy and guard — never once did he doubt his chances of returning.

Except now.

Celestial bronze sword feels heavy in his non-dominant hand, his other arm hanging limply by his side as he curls around it protectively. Monsters are closing in from all sides. The carnal desire for glory in killing a child of Hermes and having a tasty snack to fill their bellies show on their faces. Atsumu readies his stance, sole earring swinging from the motion.

 _Only use this when it is dire_ , the boy with eyes that could parallel the sun warns as he drops the bead into Atsumu’s hand. No bigger than a pearl and as dark and iridescent as one.

Atsumu commissioned the Hephaestus cabin to fashion it into jewelry and wore it close. Had brushed shoulders against opportunities to use it, but held fast.

He reaches and takes it out of his ear, watching the way it reflects the rays of light.

Dying isn’t too bad, he entertains for a moment, when the one you love is the heir to the land of the dead. Other than the fact that Osamu would descend into Hades and murder him all over again. Other than the fact that the last thing he said to Rin was not how he wished to be remembered by. Other than the fact that he’ll miss the way fire crackles as songs rise towards the heavens or the way sun warms his back during early morning sword practice. Or the way orange eyes capture sunlight, twinkle in mischief, sparkle with life.

So yeah, maybe Atsumu doesn’t want to die. Not like this at least.

“Sorry,” he whispers and hopes the bead will carry his message to its master. With the last of his strength, to the bewilderment of monsters closing in, he crushes the bead with his hand. The remnants fall through the cracks between his fingers. 

The temperature drops. The sky overhead dulling from blue to gray. Everything within a five meter radius is leached of color. Atsumu’s lips curl at the way hair stands on ends. Fear bleeding into the eyes of his pursuers.

The cold only brings comfort to Atsumu.

His body fails him and he tips backwards.

Instead of meeting ground, a pair of sturdy hands steady him. Skin as cold as the shadows he emerges from. Eyes churning with the fury of a thousand suns, imitating a microcosm of endless cycles of atoms fusing, energy that radiates: lethal. Atsumu looks up at the face more god than human and says: “hey, Shouyou.” 

In the last moments of his fading consciousness, this is all he notices: the scramble of monsters running away, the guttural screams that fill the atmosphere, and a presence that induces the sort of calm in him that Atsumu sinks into.

* * *

When Atsumu wakes up, it's Samu by his side, back hunched on his seat, and slumped over the edge of his bed. His sleep was light though, since his brother was immediately roused from slumber from the slightest movement of Atsumu’s knees. Head tilted in his direction as Atsumu groans from the struggle of what should be a simple action, attempting to sit himself upright. 

“Hey jerk,” Atsumu had croaked, voice hoarse from disuse, “Get off my legs. I can’t get up.” His head was so heavy, and his entire body was sore, but he wanted to maintain some sense of normalcy. Near death experiences were a normal thing when you were a demigod. 

Osamu blinks blearily before he manages a snort on reflex. His twin rises to help his brother sit up, “You wouldn’t be able to get up even if you tried, jerk.” His insult lacks edge as Osamu tugs him gently by his non-broken arm, adjusting Tsumu’s position so he’s resting comfortably against the bed’s headboard. 

A better look at Osamu, and Atsumu had noticed the dark circles underneath his eyes. Exhaustion and unrest on the face identical to his own. Atsumu had tried not to wince, suddenly feeling guilty.

He fails. It doesn’t go unnoticed by his brother. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Like shit.” That’s the honest reply. His sword arm is in a sling, his head feels like the aftermath of a Party Pony gathering, and his brother. Well. 

“You look like shit,” Atsumu has never been one to mince words. 

Osamu runs a hand through his hair. It’s a mess, kind of greasy. Osamu usually takes better care of himself than this. His brother laughs. It’s a brittle sound. 

“Shut up,” his twin shakes his head, the smile on the other boy’s face helpless. Osamu turns away, “I’ll get you some water.” 

Atsumu closes his eyes as Osamu heads off to find water, and maybe one of Apollo’s kids. He’s grateful for this little time alone, long inhales, and slow exhales. 

The near death experience was past tense now. What matters is the present, and presently, Atsumu is alive and breathing. 

* * *

Osamu tells him that his arrival to camp was quite the grand affair, as Shouyou had held his mangled body in both arms, covered in gold dust from head to toe. 

When Atsumu was finally able to leave the bed, Sunarin had pointed at a patch of dead grass which had the radius of about three metres. “Hinata came out of the shadows with you bloody and bruised,” Suna had recounted, “effectively killing all the plants around him. I’m pretty sure a squirrel had dropped dead out of the tree.” 

“It was as if Death had commanded for you to be brought back to life,” one of the Apollo kids recall when Atsumu had headed over to Cabin 7 for a check up, and a chance to restock his supply of ambrosia. Another kid nods in agreement. 

“Yeah,” and the kid makes a dramaticized impression of Shouyou, “He’s not dead yet.” His declaration of Atsumu’s still beating pulse had caused one of the younger kids to start crying out of shock — Shouyou’s expression eerily calm and cold, unlike the sunny disposition he had at all times. 

“After dropping you off, he had to go immediately,” Osamu’s tone is almost sympathetic when he says that. It makes Atsumu want to punch him, even if it isn’t his fault. His arm still hurts though, so Atsumu uses that as an excuse to not jump his brother for being a sap all of a sudden because, again, he’s not dead. Atsumu is right here, next to him, on the way to the Big House to grab dinner. 

“Hinata said he was still in the middle of running an errand for Hades,” Osamu clarifies with a shrug, “He promised to be back soon though.” 

_Back soon_ ended up being two weeks. 

Two weeks later and Atsumu only found out about Hinata’s return from word of mouth, which is why he’s standing in front of Cabin 13. His hands are balled into fists, and he takes a moment to collect his nerves before knocking on the door. 

The sound of footsteps, followed by the sound of the door knob turning. The door opens, revealing one Hinata Shouyou who has a smile on his face — soft and unreadable. 

“Hey ‘Tsumu,” and hearing his name from Shouyou’s mouth makes all the fight leave Atsumu's body. The son of Hermes can’t even remember why he was so tense in the first place now, and takes a step forward to wrap his arms around Shouyou into a hug, waves of relief crashing into him. 

“Hi Shouyou,” Atsumu greets back, feels Shouyou’s hand on the small of his back, Shouyou’s chin on his shoulder. “It’s good to see you again,” Atsumu’s voice is so small, and Shouyou gives a small giggle at that. 

“Mn, it’s good to see you on both feet,” comes the pleased sound of agreement, “Want to come in?” 

Not a question, but a request that Atsumu knows that he isn’t allowed to refuse. So he doesn’t, and takes another step forward into the darkness of Hades’ cabin as Shouyou takes a step back. 

From the look in Shouyou’s eyes, Atsumu knows that the son of Hades has things he wants to say, make clear. He’s just figuring how to convey it, patting the side of his bed, gesturing for Atsumu to sit. 

The son of Hermes takes his place beside the other boy. Waits patiently for his boyfriend to find his words as Atsumu is pulled into another embrace, held even tighter than their reunion at the door. 

As if were Atsumu to be held any looser, he would slip away. 

* * *

“Atsumu.”

His name weighs on Shouyou’s tongue — heavy and full of heat. His boyfriend’s breath is hot against the nape of his neck, but his hands are so cold on his waist. The difference in temperature makes Atsumu shiver in Shouyou’s arms. 

“If you wanted Death to take you so badly, why didn’t you just come to me?” Shouyou puts his hand on the left side of Atsumu’s rib cage, palm stroking downwards to his hip bone, setting his hand there. The question being both soft and low, and Atsumu wonders if Shouyou is aware that he makes it sound more like a threat. 

“You came to me, didn’t you?” Atsumu queries back, instead of giving his boyfriend a direct answer. He doesn’t want to talk about death to Death. He isn’t scared of death, not when he knows that despite his cold hands, Death has a smile as warm as the morning sun greeting a new day. 

And now Death has the lobe of Atsumu’s ear between teeth, the one that sits empty, giving it a gentle tug.

It brings Atsumu back to the moment when he crushed the pearl earring in his hand, his most precious possession, and how he was just hoping to see Shouyou one more time. 

Shouyou bites his shoulder, hard enough to leave the edge of Atsumu’s eyes stinging with tears, definitely drawing blood as Shouyou’s arms wrap even tighter around Atsumu, pressing Atsumu’s back even closer against Shouyou’s chest. 

“Shouyou—!” Atsumu hisses, “What the fu—”

“You’re mine,” the son of Hades cuts off Atsumu’s protest, leaning his head to where Atsumu’s neck meets the plane of his shoulder. Shouyou kisses the bite tenderly, laps blood up with his tongue, dragging his hand up Atsumu’s left side — slow and deliberate. He places his hand over Atsumu’s heart, raises his head to nuzzle against Atsumu’s jaw before finishing his thought, “So if you’re going to die, have the courtesy to allow me to be by your side,” Shouyou demands. 

Atsumu swallows back the protests ready on his tongue, could-be statements ranging from _I can’t choose when or where or how I’m going to die_ to _I don’t want to die by your side. I want to live by your side_. 

He’s so in love with Hinata Shouyou. Atsumu hopes he knows that. 

Shouyou kisses the ghost of what was once a gash above his eyebrow. Atsumu wonders if he can take that as an _yes_.

When the son of Hermes is finally able to find his voice, his silver tongue turns gold. He turns his cheek to look his lover in the eye; Shouyou’s usually bright eyes are dark with a promise of hunger — a look that causes Atsumu’s heart to bob up his throat in terror and then sink it back down to his chest with all the adoration he feels for Shouyou in every fibre of his being. 

“I’m yours,” Atsumu sighs quietly. Two simple words become his vow to the other boy. 

He leans in for a kiss and Shouyou meets him halfway. 

Once, when Atsumu was hanging out with Osamu and Sunarin, Aphrodite’s son had been trying to enunciate the crudest phrases found in the world’s universally acclaimed language of love. 

_Le petit morte_. Rin had said pretty words with his pretty mouth. 

Osamu had furrowed his brows. _Doesn’t that mean ‘little death?’_

Rin had given his brother a glance. _Yeah._ Allowed a pause of silence before proceeding to disinterestedly explain himself. _That’s what the French call an orgasm._

Samu had choked, and Rin let his face split into an amused grin, revealing his true colours once again. Tsumu remembers tossing whatever belongings he had on himself at the time, swearing to kill them both. 

In the present though? He thinks he understands why now. 

Death has two fingers down his throat and blooms angry marks down the line of his neck. 

As if a reminder of who has claim on Miya Atsumu — both now and in the afterlife. As if he needed it. As if Atsumu weren’t already Shouyou’s long before that bead was placed in the palm of his hand.

Atsumu feels so stretched and full like he could fray at any moment. A hand around his shaft pushing him towards the inevitable. The only thing holding him together are the gentle kisses of apology against blossoming love marks.

Atsumu moans around Shouyou’s fingers, feeling the trickle of drool escaping from the corner of his lip, when Shouyou presses deeply into him. Fingers heavy against his tongue before they slide out, leaving a smear of saliva behind as they travel down. The fingers remain plaint around his neck, lifting his head a little. “Shouyou,” he exhales. Pressed against the carotid and Atsumu can feel the thrum of the pulse that reminds him he’s alive. 

Shouyou slides out, Atsumu clenches around nothing. The hollowness taking over. If he weren’t on his stomach — if his arms were around Shouyou’s neck, and legs were hooked around Shouyou’s waist — he would pull Shouyou closer. Demand the heat of the sun by pressing their lips together with a desperate edge to them.

“Shouyou,” he pleads. 

Atsumu’s hands grip the sheets when he feels that welcome stretch again. This time it is nails raking against flesh, a light flick against nipple in a frustrating detour, digging out his heart. As if Atsumu hadn’t given it to him already.

“Shouyou,” he surrenders.

His boxers are dangling from his right foot, and Shouyou’s shirt is somewhere on the edge of his bed. Shouyou’s skin is no longer cold to the touch, flushed from the heat radiating from Atsumu’s being. 

One of Shouyou’s hands is on his thigh, and Atsumu places his own hand over it, laces his fingers into the cracks of Shouyou’s fingers. The other closes in on Atsumu. A small death by Shouyou’s palm doesn’t sound too bad, and lets his weight collapse onto his boyfriend. 

This isn’t too terrible of a way to die. 

* * *

It isn’t morning when Atsumu wakes up the next day.

He knows it isn’t morning as there is no gentle sunlight streaming in through the curtains. The sunlight is no longer a warm yellow, but rather an unforgiving blinding white that doesn’t manage to slip in past a metre of the window sill. It doesn’t matter though, because today he gets to wake up in Shouyou’s arms. 

There’s the problem of hunger though, and maybe it would be a good idea for Atsumu to just pop by the Big House for a bit. Grab brunch for the two of them. 

It feels like a good idea, so Atsumu wiggles himself out of Shouyou’s grasp, despite the other boy’s protests. It’s fine though, because Atsumu presses a kiss to Shouyou’s temple, swears that he’ll be back in a bit with food quick enough that Shouyou won’t even notice that he’s missing. 

An incoherent mumble from Shouyou that sounds like “but I miss you already,” and Atsumu can’t help but chuckle at that, rifling through Shouyou’s closet for the set of spare clothes he has here for just in case. 

“Be back soon,” Atsumu promises, before closing the door behind him. 

A hitch in his plan begins when he bumps into Osamu and Sunarin — Rin’s face immediately contorting into an expression that looks caught between a disappointed parent and amused asshole. 

Osamu catches the look on Suna’s face, and looks just as disappointed. His twin crosses his arms over his chest, eyebrows furrowed before giving a long-suffering sigh. 

“Really? Is that why you didn’t return to the cabin yesterday?” 

“Cuddling,” Atsumu omits other details and flips his brother the bird, “You should try it sometime.” Osamu rolls his eyes, and Suna laughs in a way that’s too delighted to indicate he believes that only cuddling went on between him and Shouyou, so Atsumu flips him off too. 

“I hate you both,” Atsumu reminds them, “Anyway. I’m getting Shouyou brunch. Because I’m the best boyfriend ever. Both of you can go screw yourselves,” and he starts walking off, before deciding to tack on, “or each other. Maybe invite Komori too.” 

A low blow, and he gives himself a head start to run before his words finally get processed by Osamu. Maybe he should abandon brunch for a bit and return to Shouyou’s arms. 

It’s not too bad of an idea, even as Osamu’s indignant cursing is gaining up on him. Atsumu laughs, picking up the pace of his feet, knowing there’s someone he wants to run back to. 

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was an exciting first collab! we hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> come yell at us on twitter: [xin](https://twitter.com/RainElsewhere) & [kuro](https://twitter.com/shokurensei).


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